The ever beckoning light
by Toni Harrison
Summary: The aftermath an anxious vigil. Will he make it? POV of all main characters. Bad summary sorry


_The ever beckoning light_

Summary: POV of all the main characters. Is this the end for one of our favourites? (Sorry, my summaries are truly awful, I hope this story is slightly better)

Authors note: (At my Personal profile bit)

Rating: PG-13 for some sweariness.

Spoiler warning: Up through to the current episode I think, purely cos of some of brief mentions by the team.

* * *

Last night, we nearly lost him. And as I gaze round this room, with the only sound being that of the machine helping him breathe, it still doesn't feel real. 

It should feel real though, I can still see specks of blood on that jacket. When I look closely across the room, I can see the look in their eyes. It's a look that's almost like some kind of movie theatre replaying the images of last night over and over again.

I know for a fact that they're reliving it almost as many times as me, hoping that somewhere in there, it'll be revealed as some kind of bad movie, rather than this sick awful nightmare that's playing once again for us. I wonder why I'm feeling the pain again, the one I felt the last time we were in this situation, and the time before that. I have to stop myself from shuddering at the thought, from crying out. Instead I bite my lip to divert my own thoughts.

Then just as I'm believing that it could be some horrible nightmare, I come back to life and touch his hand briefly just to make sure it's still warm and that somewhere in there, he may just still be with us.

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I don't think I'm dead, so why can't they hear me shouting their names? I feel a bit woozy sure, then again that could be the massive sugar rush from that milkshake we had.

Him and his stupid ideas again. Who'd have thought that a simple trip to a fast-food restaurant would end this way? The chocolate milkshake was good though. Took me back to life as a kid, not because I had a lot of chocolate milkshakes, more because I dreamt of a day when I could afford one. Now I could have me 300 of 'em.

Right now though, all I want is for them to hear me. If I'm honest I'm a little bit scared. That light in the distance seems to be getting ever closer.

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It's not fair. Life's not fucking fair. Just when I think there's normalcy again, and we've settled back into our routine of sorting out other people's lives instead of our own, and this happens.

We're all trying to be so brave. But we just need to look in each others eyes and we know the truth then.

I've always carried on before, in the face of anything life threw at me, my friends, family, whoever. But this, it's like some sick joke. And all I can feel is some crazy resentment that it's not happened to me. Again.

Once again I'm an observer. I'm the one with the bad feeling in my stomach. I'm the one who took the call. Again.

If I could,I'd have gone into that lousy restaurant myself, and took the gun from the guy and shot myself instead. Anything to stop this feeling.

I feel helpless. I'm not good helpless. I'm best leading from the front. Supporting them. Why then, can't I find any words? Why do I just find myself staring through the window at the lights and praying though I hate everything that praying is linked with right now?

Anything to avoid the truth.

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I don't think I'm dying. If I keep telling myself, maybe I'll be convinced.

I've not had some kind of life flashing before my eyes moment, so that must mean I'm okay. Anyway, all that stuff has to be rubbish. How can your life flash before you when you're dying. What if you're blind? Do you still see your life flash before you?

It's crap. Everything is. Just like the fact that somewhere in the distance I can hear their voices, but when I see them all, they're not talking. It's as though I've been given the gift like Mel Gibson got in that stupid film Jenna dragged me to. Only not really like that at all. It's just like I can hear what they're all thinking.

I'd rather not though. It's really not all good. And who knew that fast food wouldn't be the only thing Fitz would think about.

Anyway back to Jenna. See if I can still think thoughts like this about Jenna. Surely I can't be dying?

I just wish that fucking light would get away from my eyes.

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I thought that helpless feeling of your breath being taken away from you unexpectedly was taken from me in the Operating theatre.

Why then do I have this pain in my chest right now? Why do I feel like I could explode?

I don't know what we did to deserve all this. I don't know if some alternate universe, we're some kind of anti finding missing persons unit. We make people go missing perhaps instead of finding them? I don't know, maybe one of us has been cruel to baby animals.

More than anything right now, I want to hold my son. I want to cling onto the arms of my husband. I want to see any person's bright eyes light up. If I could trust myself to be able to get out of this room, and find my way to the maternity ward I would. I so badly want to hear sounds of joy, of life.

Actually no, more than anything I want to get this stench of hospital out of my nose, my clothes, everywhere.

I...no We've had enough of it to last us a lifetime. I can't hear anything except for that interminable but so precious right now, and thankfully at the moment, persistent bleep - bleep - bleep. I can barely hear myself think. It would probably be a blessing if I couldn't.

I look at him, and grip his hand. Somewhere in there, this has to hurt. Please?

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I'm actually thinking this could be some sort of reaction to whatever was in the milkshake. Like it had some hallucinogenic agent in it.

A hallucinogen that makes you think you're dead. Yeah, no guys, you might want to reconsider this. I think people generally prefer to feel happier when they've just spent 99 cents on a milkshake.

It's only now that I can her lips moving, and I can just barely make out her gripping my hand. It's all a little blurry though and it's hard to see with the light glaring in my eyes.

And it's only now that for some strange reason I flip.

It's not good is it, that I can actually see all this happening? It's not good that I can only hear myself, and that I feel like I'm observing everything going on but can't hear words other than my own stupid voice. I can't even hear that exactly. I just know I'm garbling.

If it's possible to get a headache when you're dying or are dead, I'm think I'm giving myself one. I want to live. I really really do. Maybe I need to start shouting it out. Maybe I should try somehow to get nearer to that light so I can talk to someone.

Or maybe I'll just go back to sleep. It's so tempting. But I'm scared. Too scared to sleep, and too damn scared to get nearer that light. I have some horrible feeling that it'll be here soon enough.

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I don't know what made me crave a milkshake anyway. All I know is that he reacted like I'd just said I'd won the state lottery when I said I wanted - no 'craved' I think was my exact word, a doughnut and a strawberry shake.

It's only now that I realise just why he reacted that way. It was like my second breakthrough moment. The moment when I felt a little bit of the old me come back.

I couldn't resist raising a stupid smile at his reaction. And as he put his arm round my shoulder, and practically dragged me, though there was no need, to the counter I remember thinking. 'Hey, everything IS going to be okay'.

I remember thinking this is going to sound great at the meeting. I think that was the last memory I have before the whole world exploded in red.

I think they call it shock. Maybe it's Post Traumatic Stress. Or some other fancy description. Okay, it's the very same thing I've been suffering from since it happened to me.

And that's exactly what I thought had happened at first. I think I thought lightning HAD struck twice. And how ironic that was. How he'd probably be at my funeral saying 'Ah well, he died happy. That Strawberry milkshake'. I think shock takes people in different ways.

Then as I looked down at myself and saw specks on my jacket. Red specks. Yeah, that made sense. But the lack of pain didn't. The fact that I felt fine just didn't seem right.

That's when I looked across, and suddenly the world magnified three million degrees, and sound came at me in some kind of supersonic stereo.

And I could only stare dumbfoundedly as the blood came out from the side of his mouth and he was trying to say my name.

I heard screams and cries, and as I looked around me, I heard one final scream and one final pop. I looked at the guy just as his face exploded.

And then realisation struck me, and clarity came to me. And all I could do then was press my hands on his wound. That wound that looked awfully close to his heart.

And shit, why was there still blood gathering on the ground? That was when the lady who just 2 minutes earlier, jesus was it really just 2 minutes before, had been clearing up all the rubbish from people's tables that they were just too lazy to move 10 yards to, to throw away came and knelt beside me and put her hands on that other wound, removing one hand just briefly to squeeze my shoulder.

We've been here for 24 hours now. Well I have. I don't intend to move. I'll never move while he's lying here. Okay, I guess when I start to stink the joint out, they'll put me in some kind of wheelchair and forcibly put me in a bath.

I'm kinda hoping the smell'll bring him out of this. Hoping is all though. I think somewhere along the line, I've kind of given him up. And that's not fair.

He didn't give me up.

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It feels like I was never conscious now. I've even forgotten what people's voices sound like. What spring smells like. Hell, I've even forgotten the sweet smell of disinfectant.

How long is it I've been here? In this kind of limbo. It could be 37 days for all I could tell. The plus is that I'm beginning to enjoy myself here. I've started to count think in my head of the good times I've had.

I've not spent too long dwelling on the bad times. No point really. I'd have no time to relive the good times then.

The thing that's registering slowly in my mind is that the light seems to have faded a little. Somewhere in this head of mine, that's making it's way to convincing me that it's a good thing.

And even though I'm still doing the perfect impression of someone sat on a fluffy cloud watching all beneath him, I've started to feel things. Somewhere I've started to feel some kind of ache.

I don't really like it. And it's like when I'm in bed and can't get to sleep and I'm cursing to myself and starting to count those sheep desperately, I want to shake it off. I want to let go.

But then again it could be good. Aching what's I need. Sensation is what I've been craving for these 37 days or whatever, isn't it?

And what's that buzzing in my ear? What's that irritating noise that just won't go away. No, not my own voice. Beep - Beep - Beep - Beep.

And there's an odd feeling in my hands too. What's that feeling? Pain? Yeah, that's it.

I glance around and suddenly I can see more clearly than I think I've ever seen. And that light that was blanking everything out. I don't know how. I don't know why. Hell I actually don't care. It's gone.

And then I start to feel the pain, really truly. And it hurts. I hear a murmur above the beep beep beep, and it's Viv. And I make a mental note to tell her she needs to watch how she shakes hands in future. Then I realise making a mental note is no use to them so from somewhere I summon the strength to respond to her grip with the most feeble ass squeeze ever. I try it three times before I hear her say 'Danny, Danny squeeze my hand again'.

I do this once. And I can hear the sound of chairs scraping. I think I hear Sam's voice calling for a Doctor or a Nurse. It's the best sound I've ever heard. Screw your sound of birds tweetering in the branches of trees.

I try to will myself to open my eyes, but I don't know whether I will yet. I want to badly. But I also know I'm tired.

I also want to practise in my head my first heroic words as I open my eyes. 'Fitz, what were you thinking?' sums it up I think. Hardly heroic? Hey, this is my story.

Right now though, I don't think I'm going anywhere fast. And I can hear them all. I don't think they will too.

I think just one thing before I slip into a sleep. One that I know I'll emerge from. I beat the ever beckoning light.

End.


End file.
